


merry christmas, sam winchester

by jahnabelle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Absolutely shameless fluff, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Christmas in the Bunker, Fluff, Gen, Sam Deserves to be Happy, christmas in july, everyone deserves to be happy, jingle bells and ho ho ho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7415287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jahnabelle/pseuds/jahnabelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Free Will has been taking an unofficial break from hunting, which just happened to land right around Christmas time. Sam considers the foyer of the bunker—maybe a Christmas tree would look nice there. Set mid-season 11, in the middle of figuring out just what to do with the Darkness. Cas lives at the bunker because that's how it should have happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	merry christmas, sam winchester

**Author's Note:**

> my third one-shot posted to ao3! i love christmas. here's a little holiday spirit in the middle of summer, because why not. thanks for leaving kudos/comments!

It was a spur of the moment sort of thing. 

There hadn’t been any hunts recently—it had been a mutual decision to stay in the bunker for a while—and they’d almost been taking a break. It wasn’t like them to do so, but Sam was enjoying it. Things were leisurely, where days would pass slowly and he would spend all of it lying on his bed watching Netflix, or actually reading, or hanging out with Dean in the main room and talking shit, drinking, just being. It was the middle of December, and the holidays were drawing closer and closer. He watched “Elf” with Dean and Cas, laughed louder than he had in a long time, and suddenly he was in the Christmas spirit. 

So that was when he suggested it. 

“What if we got a Christmas tree?” 

Dean looked up from his laptop with an eyebrow raised. “Why would we do that? We haven’t celebrated Christmas in... God, who the hell knows?” 

“Exactly!” Sam felt an inexplicable excitement rising up in him, and he couldn’t keep it out of his voice. “This year we should. We haven’t left for a case in a couple of weeks, and we haven’t even talked about leaving. Why don’t we just take a break for a while? Just for the holidays.” 

In his mind, he knew that asking for a break would probably incite some kind of argument. Dean wasn’t the kind to want to take a break—they had the Darkness to worry about, of course, and that was all Sam’s fault, of course—but maybe the holidays would be enough to convince him to stay at the bunker. Sam was feeling hopeful, which he knew was dangerous. That sort of hope was the kind to get crushed, easily and quickly, in the fist of someone else’s hand. He looked at Dean with what he hoped was a convincing expression, because maybe if he knew just how much he wanted this, it would happen. 

“Fine,” Dean said, glancing at him. “Would you put those puppy dog eyes away?” He looked beyond Sam and into the main foyer, tilting his head. “I guess we could put it by the staircase. How big we talkin’?” 

Sam immediately began to do research. He found a Christmas tree farm just a few miles outside of Lebanon, and he insisted that they go and cut it down themselves. He had no idea where this sudden desire to be as Christmas-y as possible came from, but he was enjoying it. It felt like euphoria, and he was going to ride it as far as he possibly could. The holidays had hardly ever been on his radar before, and here he was, bundled in the car with Dean and Cas and listening to the radio station that played non-stop holiday music. He was sure that Dean was seething for a while until he started belting along with Mariah Carey, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and ignoring Cas’s quiet laughter in the back seat. 

It snowed the night before, which made the tree farm painfully photogenic. Sam clambered out of the car and breathed the cold air deep into his lungs, feeling more alive than he had in a long time. The visions, the callings from God or whoever was trying to communicate with him—all of that was in the past. Right now, he was standing at a tree farm, surrounded by the smell of pine, and ready to celebrate Christmas. 

“Ten to twelve footers are that way,” the guy at the gate said when they asked, pointing a gloved hand toward one end of the lot. 

The three of them set off, boots crunching in the snow, and Sam couldn’t quite hold himself back from smiling. He ducked his head into the collar of his parka and tried to hide the grin that was spreading across his face, but he couldn’t help it. Dean was charging ahead, the axe in his hand, saying that he’d spotted one already. It was incredible how easily he’d gotten on board with this, and now he seemed excited about it. 

“You look happy,” Cas said, and Sam turned to him to nod. “It’s good to see you happy, Sam. The holidays are a time of great joy, and it’s only fair that you get to experience it.” 

“This one!” Dean called from in front of them, pointing at a massive Douglas fir. “It’ll look great! Look at it, it’s huge!” 

Sam looked at Cas and grinned, unable to help himself. “We don’t normally do this. It just—it’s a nice change. To do this.” 

“I can imagine.” Cas smiled, and then they sped up to catch up with Dean, who looked like he was about to start cutting down the tree without them. 

They decided on another tree further down the row in the end, because the one Dean wanted had a huge hole in the back and Sam deemed the branches too weak for ornaments. When Cas pointed out that they didn’t actually have any ornaments, they decided that a trip to the local Kmart would be next, because they had to have some kind of ornaments there, right? 

“We need lights, too,” Dean said, brows furrowed in concentration. “And a star. Or an angel.” He turned his eyes toward Cas. “Which we already have!” 

“I’m fairly certain that’s not how this works,” Cas replied, though he edged away from Dean apprehensively anyway. “I’m sure they are only decorative—” 

They spent the next couple of minutes teasing Cas about being their tree-topper, before actually getting around to bringing their tree to the front of the lot to be wrapped up.

It turned out that maybe they hadn’t thought this through. 

“Dude, how are we going to get this thing home?” Dean said as they set the tree down. “I am not tying this to the roof of the Impala. There’s no way. I can’t do that to baby, look at her!” 

Sam turned around and looked at Dean with raised eyebrows. “We just spent a hundred dollars on a tree and you’re telling me that we can’t get it home because you’re refusing to tie it to the roof of the car? Come on, dude, we only have a few miles to go. It’s not going to hurt the car, people do this all the time!” 

Dean looked furious for a moment and he scratched the back of his head, glancing between the car and the tree and back again. He looked behind him, and Sam worried for a moment that they were going to bring their already cut tree back to the farm without even trying to put it on the roof of the Impala. Behind him, Cas was shuffling his shoes in the snow, silent and unhelpful. “Okay, fine, we’ll try,” Dean said finally, grabbing the twine that the guy at the farm had given them. “But if we dent the roof, I swear—” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said, and went to haul the tree up onto his shoulder. 

The drive home was wracked with nerves, because Dean kept wanting to pull over and check on the paint job. “But what if she’s scratched, Sammy?” 

“Nothing we can do about it now,” Sam replied, and that would silence Dean for a while, until his nervousness got the better of him once more. It only calmed down once they pulled in front of the bunker, and the three of them hauled the twelve-foot Christmas tree into the foyer. 

“We forgot a stand,” Sam said, once they got to the bottom of the stairs, covered in a thin sheen of sweat underneath their coats. He looked up at the huge tree and shook his head. Second-guessing had become a habit of his, and even in the case of something like a Christmas tree, he was seriously reconsidering his thought process. What made him think they could have a Christmas tree? They weren’t normal; it wasn’t like they were just three guys who happened to celebrate the holiday together, with no idea about monsters, devils, or angels. 

But he had to admit—the room did smell beautifully with pine. Cold air still clung to the pine needles, sharpening their scent, and Sam breathed in deeply, filled his lungs with it. Despite the tree being contained in the netting from the farm, Sam could imagine it opened up and decorated, sparkling in the warm light of the bunker’s foyer.

“Tinsel,” he said, glancing at the other two, who were looking at him and waiting for him to say something. “We should also get tinsel.” 

“Whatever you want,” Dean said, not at all sarcastic. It surprised Sam. “Come on, let’s head to town.” 

At Kmart, they stocked up on different kinds of ornaments, trolling through the clearance sections before going to the displays. Sam wanted color, lots of red and gold and green; Dean insisted that white and gold would be the best, and they decided on white lights and colorful ornaments. 

“We need a fuck ton,” Dean said, brows furrowed as he compared two boxes. “How many do you think we need to decorate a twelve foot tree?” 

Cas suggested at least a hundred, which involved a flurry of boxes off shelves and into the cart. Sam got as many strings of lights as he could carry, and soon they were headed to the checkout line with a cart that teetered with boxes of lights, ornaments, and a tree stand. The cashier didn’t say anything to them as Sam and Dean fumbled for whatever credit card happened to have the least on it at the time; she glanced dourly at them from underneath her cheery Santa Claus hat. 

They got everything inside just as it started to snow again, thick white flakes falling down from a slate grey sky. It clung to the shoulders of Sam’s parka; it melted, cold, in his hair. When they walked into the foyer, they were greeted by the fresh smell of pine, the tree huge and majestic, even leaning up against the staircase. 

“Well,” Sam said, immediately beginning to go through the bags, “let’s get this party started.” 

He didn’t know how much holiday cheer would be too much holiday cheer. He risked putting on a Spotify playlist of a hundred Christmas songs, and neither Cas nor Dean seemed to mind all that much. In fact, while they set the tree up in the stand, watered it, and then began to wind the lights around the base and the middle, Sam even caught Dean humming along. It suddenly felt like everything they’d been chasing, every mistake they’d all made in the past few months, every pre-Biblical force, creature, and thing that went bump into the night disappeared. They faded behind the scent of pine and the cheery notes of “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town” by the Pointer Sisters. They cowered behind Sam bringing up what to do on Christmas Eve—would Dean want to cook something? You know, just something small—would they want to have a movie marathon? A small gift exchange? 

“What’s gotten into you, huh?” Dean had his arms elbow-deep in the tree’s branches, moving around and around as he put on the lights. “Since when are you so ... jingle bells and ‘ho ho ho’?” 

Immediately, Sam felt like he had to defend himself. But Dean’s tone wasn’t accusatory or mean-spirited. He sounded curious, concerned, even. “Things have been pretty bleak recently,” he replied finally, shrugging his shoulders. He too was elbow-deep in tree, his hands covered in sap as he handled the lights. “I know we don’t normally celebrate Christmas, but I think it would be good for us this year.” 

“I think it’s a great idea,” Cas said. He’d snapped his fingers and gotten the lights on the top of the tree without a problem—he was now busy unpacking ornaments. “And as far as Christmas eve goes, Sam, why don’t we invite Sheriff Mills? Garth and his wife? We have enough room in the bunker for a large party.” 

Sam glanced out into the foyer and the main room—he could see the party Cas was envisioning. Lights draped along the bookcases, a wreath here or there, the sound of this playlist streaming through the room. Dean could cook for a family, like he’d always wanted to (but never said). Did he dare get his hopes up? Did they even try for something like this? Hunters didn’t celebrate like this, but they certainly had the space, and this Christmas tree could be enjoyed by more than just them... 

“And who’s going to cook for all those people, Cas? Martha Stewart?” Dean grumbled from his side of the tree. 

“You, Dean, of course.” Cas shrugged. “We all know you’ve been wanting to cook something out of the books you found in the library.” 

Dean seemed to splutter for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse or a way out of it. But Sam could tell that he was flattered Cas even brought it up, that by saying this, they meant they enjoyed his cooking, even though he didn’t do it often. 

As they put the ornaments on the tree, they discussed possible menus. Dean’s eyes were brighter than they’d been in months, and he talked animatedly about roasts and pastas, side dishes and desserts. He looked less like a man haunted by his choices, and more like the Dean that Sam had known before—before Hell, before the angels and demons mess, the apocalypse. Young, and brash, and full of what he could call life. It was just set behind a face that was older, with deeper crinkles around his eyes, a harder set to his mouth. As clichéd as it sounded, maybe Christmas was what they both needed. A little normalcy amongst the unknown. 

Sam put the final ornament on the tree and stepped back, feeling kind of nervous. 

“Pretty damn good for a couple of fuckers who don’t celebrate, huh?” Dean said, a hint of appreciation in his voice. 

Sam had to smile. The tree looked opulent from here, decked out in red and green ornaments. Pine filled his nose when he breathed in. He glanced from the bottom to the top, and then was hit with a realization. “We forgot a tree-topper,” he said, frowning. 

Beside him, Dean grinned. “Cas, now’s your chance,” he said, reaching over to elbow the angel. “Come on, climb on up there. Do you have a halo?” 

“It is too bright for your human eyes to see,” Cas replied while shooting Dean a sour look. “I am in a human vessel—”

“Don’t be such a Grinch, Cas!” Dean reached to grab one end of the belt of Cas’s trenchcoat, but the angel was too quick for him. Sam watched, amused, as the two of them chased each other around the map table, Dean shouting that it would make sense for the resident angel to be the tree-topper, and Cas replying that it would not only be impossible, but an embarrassment.

“I would tip the tree over!” Cas said, and the argument was over because Dean wanted to dig out his favorite recipes that he’d been wanting to try. 

Sam remained in the foyer. He dragged a chair over to sit in front of the tree after he’d cleared away the empty boxes and cardboard. With the lights dimmed, the tree provided enough to see by. Sam thought about the people he missed, all of a sudden. His thoughts first went to Bobby, who they’d had more than their share of Christmases with. The trees were always small, always picked up on Christmas eve, and half-heartedly decorated with whatever Bobby could dig up from the attic. That was the first time Sam had ever had spiked eggnog. 

He tried not to think about Jess, but his thoughts went to her like she was a beacon on a cold winter night. One year, she’d invited him home during winter break, because she knew he had nowhere else to go. They’d baked cookies, helped her parents decorate the tree, and snuck into the living room late at night to kiss and talk in front of the tree, which illuminated the room in a soft white light. It had been unlike any other Christmas he’d ever had. 

“Hey.” 

Sam turned, startled, to find Cas standing in the doorway.

“Dean’s finished looking through everything he wants to make for this party,” he continued. “We’ve found that a number of channels are playing Christmas movies. Would you like to come watch “Home Alone”?"

“Sure, Cas.” Sam stood, stretching a little, and took one last long look at the tree. He wasn’t quite sure how they managed it, but there it was—resplendent, if he could use that word. Soon, there would be other people crowding around that tree, celebrating with them. Sam still couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe this wasn’t in their playbook; that Christmas, and holidays, jolly feelings and gift-giving, just weren’t what they were meant for. But the tree was there, decorated within an inch of its capacity, giving off light that seemed to warm Sam right in the middle of his chest. Figuratively, of course. It would be a fire hazard if it was that warm. 

“Sam?” 

He turned and gave Cas a small smile. “Yeah, I’m coming. Just admiring the tree.” 

“You did that,” Cas replied. His expression was soft, maybe even fond. “All of this was your doing.” And then, after a moment, Cas added, "I’m honored to share my first Christmas on Earth with you.” 

Sam was sure that the angel had had a number of Christmases on Earth already, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he clapped Cas on the shoulder and smiled. “That means a lot, Cas. Come on, let’s go watch ‘Home Alone’ and see if Dean will bake us cookies.” 

It felt strange to do this, but it also felt right. The Darkness was battering down their doors, but there was always a little bit of light to keep it away.


End file.
